


Red

by the1918



Series: Compatible [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: (if you squint), Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Bearded Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Consent Issues - See A/N, Dark-ish Steve, Dubious Consent Due to Biological Imperative, First Time, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Bucky Barnes, Not Canon Compliant, Omega Bucky Barnes, Omega Verse, POV Steve Rogers, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Possessive Steve Rogers, Post-Avengers (2012), Protective Steve Rogers, Rimming, Shrunkyclunks, Size Difference, Smut, Somnophilia, but not in a mean way, feral steve rogers, inner turmoil, not a standalone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:47:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27801001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the1918/pseuds/the1918
Summary: His fingertips were voracious now, roaming his mate—hisBucky—the sweet curves of his ass and the planes of his spine and the smooth, heated skin of his arms… and the virgin expanse of his unmarked neck. His perfectly plush lips tasted sweet and red redredredand Steve was going topin him down and keep him there until he was full of Steve’s knot and bleeding with Steve’s bite and—---Steve's POV of his rut inCompatible. Written as a companion piece to be read followingChapter 9 ofBespoke.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Compatible [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483064
Comments: 39
Kudos: 183





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> **!STOP!** This is fic is **not a standalone!!!** Please ensure you have read [Chapter 9 of _Bespoke_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754051/chapters/68061811) first (and definitely make sure you have read _[Compatible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597390/chapters/48902774)_ , or you will have much confuse).
> 
> Thanks to Bex ([Becassine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Becassine/pseuds/Becassine)) for beta.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: The sex in this story is overall caring and enthusiastic on the part of both participants in an established sexual relationship. However, certain sections contain elements of dubious consent and possibly non-consent due to an entirely fictional biological imperative that is not present in the real world. Lots of possessive inner turmoil. If you are sensitive to (or not interested in reading) work with these themes, please inform your decision to read further by visiting the A/N at the end of the story now (slight spoilers).

Steve Rogers woke up with too-hot, so-sweet, touch-hold-have- _own_ drenching every cell in his body and every atom in his space.

He took stock of his senses. His nose said: Top soil—fertile. Mineral earth, cool and familiar but now with an undertone of something brand new, something sweeter. Honeysuckle. Slick.

His ears heard a voice, not his own… His Omega’s voice. His _mate_ —

_“Stevie, you gotta wake up, we have a problem and we need to talk.”_

—and then Steve was reaching out towards the gravitational force of **_mine_** and falling in with it.

He already had a fistful of t-shirt by the time he opened his eyes to find that he had dragged his mate’s face halfway towards his own, and then he slammed his eyelids shut again in favor of tasting, _claiming_ , beholding his prize with lips and tongue instead of with sight. He devoured the precious mouth beneath his with all of the intensity of a wild animal finally breaking free of its cage. Satisfaction poured from deep in Steve’s lungs and echoed off the walls of the room.

His fingertips were voracious now, roaming his mate—his _Bucky_ —the sweet curves of his ass and the planes of his spine and the smooth, heated skin of his arms… and the virgin expanse of his unmarked neck. His perfectly plush lips tasted sweet and red red red **_red_** and Steve was going to _pin him down and keep him there until he was full of Steve’s knot and bleeding with Steve’s bite and—_

Steve ripped himself away and leapt off the couch so fast that Bucky was shoved onto the armrest, blinking in confusion.

“Bucky…”

Steve wanted to be back on him from the second he tore himself away, to undress Bucky down to bare skin, to use his own nose to chase the scent to the places it would be strongest, to rub his steel-hard cock against Bucky’s hip. It took everything he had in him to maintain a safe—safer distance.

“Buck— I. There’s something wrong. _Really_ wrong.”

A force deep in Steve’s bones had made itself known the moment he’d awoken from his dreams, and whatever it was, it did not want to be trapped inside. It was a physical sensation as much as it was mental—the feeling of this… this _thing_ trying to get out, trying to rip its way clean through Steve’s flesh and crawl onto the couch with its claws and its teeth and gracelessly swallow Bucky alive.

And still, worse: Bucky looked like he _wanted_ to be swallowed.

“You’re in rut, baby,” Bucky said. His sweet voice wavered and _needed_ with a palpable frustration as he shifted around on the couch. “And I’m in Heat.”

There was a pulsing in Steve’s cock, and then understanding sunk in. Down came a lightning bolt of pure panic.

 _Steve’s mate was in heat. Steve’s Omega was in_ Heat _._

“How?” This wasn’t right and it—it was right, but it wasn’t … _wasn’t right_! “I. I thought that wasn’t supposed to happen for another—”

“—Three to six months, yeah,” Bucky finished. “But it’s here, it’s happening now. I… I don’t know how. I tried to call Dr. Pete, but his office is closed on the weekends.” He exhaled and shrugged. “Looks like we’re on our own, Steve.”

But Bucky didn’t know. He couldn’t _know_ —there was no way. Bucky would not sound so calm and resigned if he knew the devils coursing through Steve’s veins.

“Buck,” Steve warned, raspy, attempting to keep a level tone but wholly unable to disguise his terror. “I— I want to do some really crazy things to you right now. Bad things.”

_I want to grow claws to rip up your clothes._

_I want to hold you down._

“Look,” Bucky sighed. His eyelids fluttered for a moment and his nostrils flared. He could smell Steve. “I think—It’ll be okay, Stevie. It’s nature, it’s normal. What you’re feeling is normal.”

_I want to fill your ribs and lungs._

“We can figure this out together.”

_I want to fuck your cunt full, and your womb fuller._

“Just do what feels right, and everything will be fine.”

 _I want to hide you forever inside of our den and rend flesh in_ pieces _from those who come near._

Bucky was saying yes.

Bucky had no idea what he was saying yes _to_.

“I don’t.” Steve tried to choke the words out, even when they tasted as bitter and sour as the bile he swallowed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Buck. I want you— _god_ , I want you, wanna do things to you— but I can’t. If we do, I might…”

Bucky stood with a shake of his head, and then he, oh—Jesus _Christ,_ no—and then he lowered his lashes.

“Look, Stevie,” he started, putting one foot in front of the other as he prowled across the room, perfectly pink tongue swiping out to wet his own lips. “I hear what you’re saying, but these urges we’ve got are going to keep up for _days_ unless we do something about them.”

Steve was frozen. Bucky was in danger—Bucky was _reckless_ , reaching out now to trace the throbbing trails of blood vessels along Steve’s bicep as though it weren’t the same as fiddling with a grenade pin. Steve was too weak to move himself away.

“You don’t want me to be feeling miserable for that long, do you baby?” A growl threatened the back of Steve’s throat. “Wanna make me lay alone in bed?” _No,_ “squirming, Stevie…” _I’ll wreck you until it’s better,_ “my own fingers inside me, screaming for you?”

_I will fuck you until your insides are more my flesh than yours._

Steve’s thoughts fought to come out as noise instead of as words, but he swallowed down the enraged roar until it sounded like something human instead of something beastly. He couldn’t look at Bucky. He had to close his eyes.

“ _No_ , Buck,” Steve gritted out in pain. He swallowed, dry. “Don’t want that at all.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth tilted up in a grin.

“Then why don’t you take me to bed and show me all of those _bad_ things you want to do, hm?”

Steve could no longer help it; he finally let himself imagine it. _Really_ imagine it. He thought of what would happen… what he would do if he discarded the last defense he clung to and let himself have what he wanted instead.

First, Steve would strip Bucky bare.

He would _bend Bucky’s body over the armrest_ —no, wait. The bed. Steve would hold off his own need just long enough for his Omega to build himself a nest. His mate would be happier that way, more relaxed; he would be more pliant.

And then Steve would, oh… Steve would tell Bucky to _present_ in his nest and Bucky would do that for him. Bucky was sweet; he was good. Steve would rip away his own useless clothing—Bucky would need that for his nest—and then he would take his dripping, aching cock in his hands and _line himself up with his Omega’s tight, hot_ —

—But again, Steve would have to make himself wait. One more time. He would need to make sure Bucky was wet enough to let him inside… except Steve’s hands would be slippery with sweat. It would be better to use his tongue. But _then_ , once Steve ensured that his mate was perfectly soaked and dripping down Steve's chin, Steve would finally take, he would shove himself in, only…

…Only Steve was _large_. His fingers would be necessary after all if there was any hope of stretching his mate’s cunt wide enough to take the fat knot Steve had for him, but it would be worth the delay for Steve to slip those fingers deep inside, guided by an innate knowledge that the best chance for his Omega to _take with Steve’s pups would be if he was malleable and open and—_

“I’m in _Heat_ , baby.”

The sweet, repeated plea jerked Steve out of his dissociated state. He took stock of himself and found that he was, incredibly, still standing, still in control of himself, even when Bucky was still touching him and every muscle in his body was straining under the crushing weight of self-restraint.

Bucky kept on with his pretty begging, _“I need a knot or I’m going to go crazy,”_ and Steve made a wounded noise, and Bucky—“I gotta get it _somewhere_. Who knows… maybe I’ll get so needy that I’ll just start wandering the halls, calling out for the first Alpha that wants to—”

_Rip. Tear. Break. Kill._

****

Steve’s legs were carrying him to the front door before his conscious brain could say otherwise. He yanked it open almost hard enough to break the hinges, slamming it shut behind him, and then he was standing in a hallway that smelled not only of Bucky but of dozens of people, of stale but lurking threats, Omegas and Betas and _Alphas that could try and breed Steve’s mate._

Steve would first have blood and bone on his tongue.

It all happened so fast, but the second the door closed behind him, Steve wanted to turn back and go to Bucky—to the source of the sad scent that had followed him out into the hallway. Steve was a wretched man; he’d left his mate alone and in distress. But he could not return. He could not return even when it grated through the marrow of Steve’s being to know that he was the singular thing that Bucky needed, and Steve had abandoned him to pain.

It didn’t matter; it couldn’t. The alternative would be far worse for Bucky.

The doorknob turned from the inside, and Steve heard Bucky groan through the wood when his attempt to push it open met nothing but immovable resistance as Steve used his body as a stalwart barricade from the outside.

“What are you even _doing_ Steve?!”

And _fuck_ … Bucky sounded so desperate. Steve’s fault. His gut twisted and roiled.

“I’m keeping you safe!” he shouted back. His voice sounded like it had been run through a meat grinder.

“I can’t be in there without hurting you,” he couldn’t, or he _could_ , “but I—I can be out here. I can make sure no one else comes by trying to. To take you.”

Steve heard a soft thump from the other side of the door, followed by the sound of Bucky sliding down it to sit on the floor.

“Can’t you keep me safe from in here?” Bucky whined.

A feral voice in Steve’s head suddenly piped up to reason that yes—Bucky _would_ be safe once marked with Steve’s bite. He forced himself to push it away.

“You don’t get it, Buck,” Steve pleaded. “ _I’m_ not safe. It’s…” he swallowed, dry. “It’s better this way.”

With an exasperated sigh from the other side of the door, their short back-and-forth fell silent. Steve heard Bucky picking himself up after another hollow minute, and then there were footsteps, and then the heated sounds of Bucky’s breathing disappeared.

Now that there was some distance and slab of wood to come between them, Steve found that he wasn’t exactly clear-headed, but he was… clearer. He hung his head in his hands and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyelids, exhaling out a deep lungful of air he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He and Bucky… they were supposed to have months until Bucky went into Heat, they were supposed to have _time_ : time enough to figure it out together, enough to make a plan. Time enough to talk to Bucky’s doctor about what to expect, about how this—how their… _Compatibility_ would affect them. Time enough to grow this new relationship and learn each other’s bodies. Time enough to build something that could endure a challenge.

Time enough for Steve to tell Bucky that he loved him.

Meeting Bucky had been like meeting a hurricane head-on, a torrent that spent its force carving up blissful wreckage inside Steve’s chest. He couldn’t put a timestamp on the moment he first knew it, but if someone had asked, Steve supposed he would have to say that he fell in love with Bucky the second he saw him. Even that wouldn’t have been quite right. Meeting Bucky was the moment Steve _realized_ that he loved him, but his soul told him that he’d loved Bucky for longer. His soul told him that Bucky was his to protect, to provide for.

No one else in Steve’s life had ever made him feel the way that he did when he was around Bucky, not even Peggy. Every one of Steve’s daydreams over the past two months had been fantasies of forever holding Bucky close, kissing Bucky, listening to Bucky talk about those tiny little robots that only he knew how to build, petting Bucky’s soft hair and pressing Steve’s silent love into his neck. He had clocked hours and _hours_ imagining what it would be like to live the rest of his life alongside this beautiful man who was intelligent and kind and cunning, who made Steve laugh and kept him on his toes, who saw him as Steve Rogers and not just a superhero.

Steve knew that Bucky’s affections for him in return were real and genuine… but it had _only_ been two months. Two months, and Steve already wanted to build a home with Bucky. He wanted to bond with Bucky, wanted to—to have a _family_ with Bucky. He couldn’t deny the blistering intensity of his own feelings, but Steve would have been an arrogant fool to assume that Bucky had fallen just as hard and wildly fast.

But Steve was okay with that—more than okay. Steve would happily take every look and every laugh and every crooked grin Bucky deemed fit to toss his way for as long as Steve could have them. He craved every one of those sweet drops of the future, but Steve didn’t need the hurry. Bucky had a way of making him smile with just about every little thing he did. Steve had become adept at hiding the evidence on his face that Bucky smiling back at him was a divine hand reaching through the cracks in his ribs to wrap fingers around Steve’s existence.

The fact was that Bucky could have had anybody he wanted. He could have an experienced lover, or one that wasn’t bewildered by watching his own cock knot up. Bucky could have a partner that wouldn’t be ripped away from his side and thrust into danger at unexpected turns. Steve was far too selfish to step away so that Bucky could seek those things instead of him.

But there were other things that Bucky deserved that Steve could not ignore for the benefit to his own desires. Bucky deserved a life of independence and success without having to put up with lesser men distracting him. He deserved the world—and was capable of taking that world for himself without anyone’s help.

Bucky did _not_ deserve to be held down and trapped by instinct and made to submit by an Alpha who was too weak to resist… this.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts by the fast-growing scents of two Beta women walking by, and he had to cut off the subvocal growl that formed in his chest as they passed in front of Bucky’s door—which Steve was still awkwardly crouched in front of, legs folded at an angle to hide his persistent erection. He didn’t growl, but the snarling curl of his lips couldn’t be stopped. The Betas gave him odd, wary looks before turning the corner and disappearing from sight, and Steve might have blushed in embarrassment at the obvious laughter he heard from further down the hallway if he weren’t so relieved that the threat was gone. Bucky remained safe.

He didn’t know how much time he sat in that hallway backed up against the door, but however long it was, Steve spent it trapped in a cycle. His thoughts would wander to whatever it was that Bucky might be doing on the inside—maybe laying on his bed with knees pulled under him, pressing his own fingers into his empty, shaking body and doing whatever he could to fill a need that Steve had refused to fill himself—and then the thoughts would make Steve’s heart beat too fast, and new pulses of sweat would bead out from his skin, and his still-swollen cock would throb in pain until Steve forced himself to focus in on his own breathing. He might even come close to bringing the animalistic tugging in his gut under control, but then another one of the building tenants would pass by and Steve’s attention would shift completely once more. He tried each time to not bare his teeth, but he was unable to stop himself from squaring up and posturing, glaring at the threats until they were gone and Steve could no longer smell them. When the hallway was once again safe, Steve would shut his eyes and breathe deep, and then he’d return to imagining what Bucky was doing to himself behind that wretched, blessed door, safe but wanting. Secured, abandoned.

“Steve. Steve!”

His heart nearly leapt up through his throat when Bucky’s call from inside yanked him from his reverie. He immediately assessed Bucky’s tone, instinctively searching for signs of distress. What he found instead sounded more like annoyance and impatience, if not desperation.

“You have to come back in!” Bucky yelled. “My landlord said the neighbors are complaining about you blasting up the hallway with your rut scent!”

Steve might have blushed if he weren’t already red and blotchy and hot all over. He understood objectively that he could not remain where he was forever. Bucky could be in Heat for several days—maybe even a week—and Steve couldn’t exactly spend the entire time sitting sentry in the hallway.

“Um, I—okay.” He swallowed dry again. “Fine, but… but you need to lock yourself in the bedroom.”

Bucky didn’t respond, which surprised Steve; he had been expecting more protest. Slowly, cautiously, Steve picked himself off the floor and turned. He steeled himself as he reached for the doorknob.

The unfiltered presence of honeyed earth flooding Steve’s nose shouldn’t have surprised him as much as it did. Bucky was there, standing in front of him, arms crossed and sweaty hair tied back and lips red like he’d been chewing on them.

“I’m not going to lock myself in the bedroom.”

Steve couldn’t find space inside himself to feel embarrassed about the panicky whining noise that emerged from his own throat.

_“Bucky…”_

He shut the door behind him and quickly secured every bolt, lock, and chain before someone else tried to follow him in. He averted his gaze from Bucky once he was done, and he started to pace, completely unsure what to do with his body but very sure that he could not risk looking at Bucky.

“I know I can’t really leave—don’t _wanna_ leave,” he groaned, “gotta _stay_ and make sure you’re safe—but you also gotta keep yourself safe from me. Alright?”

Steve tugged roughly on his own hair like Bucky would somehow feel it and listen.

“I don’t _need_ to be kept safe from you, Steve! I’m in heat—no, I’m in a _Heat_ —and you’re my Alpha. I need to be with you.”

Hearing the way that _my Alpha_ rolled off Bucky’s tongue made Steve want to roar his approval and pin Bucky to the carpet, to hold him down and purr and growl and suck Bucky’s dick—praise for knowing what Steve was to him. His muscles shook with the exertion of remaining still instead.

“I told you, Buck.” Steve forced out the words through the painful clench of his own jaw. “I’ve never seen myself like this before. I don’t know what I’ll do, what I could do. I might— probably _will_ hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me, Stevie,” Bucky responded, sure and unbent. “I know you won’t.”

Steve was shaking his head so hard it almost hurt his neck.

“No. There is _no_ way you can know that.”

“Yes I _can_ ,” Bucky stressed. “And I do know that. You won’t hurt me for the same reason you were just standing guard outside of my apartment, because your body was literally _made_ for this, Steve. Your instincts, too. You already know how to do this, how to take care of me when I’m like this.” He sounded so needy and tired, and Steve wanted to wring his own throat for being the cause of that helpless desperation. “It’s programmed into your DNA.”

What little remained in the well of Steve’s willpower was rapidly running dry. He couldn’t _do_ this; he couldn’t stand there and listen to Bucky tell him everything he already knew, that nature had designed their bodies to fit together like perfect puzzle pieces, that Bucky was _hurting_ and Steve was the single, organic cure for all that ailed him. He broke the cycle of his pacing and darted for the kitchen instead, as though being in a different room would change any of that.

Bucky followed behind him with an exasperated whining noise. Steve wanted to turn and eat the sound out of Bucky’s throat.

“What else can I say to you, Steve? I need you—my body is _screaming_ for you!”

Steve all but collapsed onto the kitchen island, grabbing the edge of the countertop as a support while he ground out a pained, ragged moan that refused to stay inside. He wished he could have kept it in his lungs, though, because the reaction only seemed to encourage Bucky. Steve’s eyes prickled with tears of frustration.

“This is your Omega asking for his Alpha to help him, Stevie,” Bucky continued, standing not five feet behind Steve and speaking with a cadence that could only be described as inviting. Steve’s body jolted with the effort of trying to remain in place instead of turning, instead of taking Bucky right there on the tile. “ _Please_ , baby. I feel like I’m going to explode if I can’t have your knot—”

Steve felt rather than heard the sound of agony that was ripped from his own chest. His body bowed in half with the pain of it, face halting its downward fall only inches from the countertop, and he focused hard on trying to smother the firestorm of instinct roaring through his blood and demanding that he _take care of what belongs to him._

“ _Buck_ , please—please stop!” Steve was pleading now, high in his throat, utterly abandoning all illusion of dignity. “I want it, I do, and I’m so, _so_ sorry baby—but you _have_ to stop saying those things! Hearing that I’m failing you— hurts like stabbing, baby, _fuck_ , makes me wanna _die_.” Steve meant every begging word. “That—that I’m not giving my Omega what you _need_ … goddamnit Buck. Hurts so much.”

But Steve didn’t hear his own phrasing—didn’t hear _‘my Omega’_ —until well after the words were out of his mouth. For as much as he had thought about Bucky that way, it was the first time he had said it out loud.

He was still processing the thought when a thick, sweet wave of honied mineral scent flooded Steve’s nostrils and electrified every nerve in his system, urging his muscles to burst into action and turn and grab and take and _take_ and **_take_** _,_ and it was only by the grace of some miracle that Steve managed to wrestle himself back into a jerky, self-restrained crouch over the countertop. His forehead slammed down hard against the surface this time, but it wasn’t the pain of impact that brought forth the animal whine from high in his own throat; it was the sudden realization—a cruel inner knowledge—that the source of the scent was not just Bucky, but Bucky’s… Bucky’s _slick_ , Bucky leaking for Steve. Bucky had heard Steve’s claiming slip and his body had responded in kind, getting itself hot and wet and ready to envelop Steve’s knot and accept Steve’s seed.

He could hear Bucky’s heavy breathing. He was losing time under the weight and pain of keeping himself in check, but he still knew it had been a long while since Bucky had last spoken. The kitchen was silent. Steve wondered what he would see on Bucky’s expression if he spun to face him, but he wasn’t yet stupid enough to try and find out.

“Wait here.”

The words were unexpected; out of place. Steve heard Bucky quietly shuffle out of the kitchen, and he heard the sounds of the bedroom door opening, but Steve was slow to stray from the safety of his spot. The intoxicating scent of Heat in the room began to thin out just enough to pull Steve back into reality. He soon found himself able to stand, slowly opening his eyes, turning towards the now empty space where Bucky had only just stood. Steve focused on slowing his own breathing while he awaited—dreading—Bucky’s inevitable return.

Steve tried to ignore the throbbing in his balls where they hung hot and heavy beneath his erection. He knew that if he touched his cock, he’d find he was already leaking. He wondered if his knot would swell even without Bucky touching him, and then his mind reeled back at the memory of Bucky’s mouth on the fat bulge at the base of his cock just a week ago, a physical manifestation and reminder that Steve’s body was made for fucking into a wet, hot hole and locking himself inside.

It was less than another minute before Bucky finally came back and found Steve leaning backwards against the countertop with his gaze cast down, fighting away lascivious thoughts, not brave enough to attempt eye contact yet. He started to come closer than he’d been before, and the advance immediately spooked Steve. He felt pathetic, and he was, scurrying like a mouse to the other side of the kitchen island to maintain a safe distance.

Bucky sighed, but he didn’t try to follow. He did something with his hand then, drawing Steve’s conscious attention to some strange object he had apparently retrieved from the bedroom.

“Do you know what this is, Steve?” Bucky asked, and it took Steve several seconds to realize that the odd item didn’t look so odd at all, even though it took Steve a long minute to place it. He could tell it was an electronic device of some sort, almost like a small remote control for a television but with only one single, large button. It was sleek and black and fit squarely in Bucky’s palm like it was designed to be held just that way. A black strap hung from it freely. “Have you seen one of these before?”

Steve’s voice was rough and ragged when he finally found the air to answer.

“No, I—yes,” he corrected and stumbled. “Natasha has… There was something like that.”

The memory of when and where Steve had seen a similar object was slow to take shape, but he knew he associated it with Nat and a mission and… perhaps Bruce? But Bucky was perfect and patient with him, his voice almost infuriatingly steady when he continued to speak.

“This is an Alpha tase,” Bucky said levelly. Steve watched him move and turn the object in his hands so Steve could see it from different angles. “It ties to my wrist. You can’t see it, but there's a pheromone cartridge inside.”

Steve was still attempting to process the concept of a ‘pheromone cartridge’ when Bucky flipped the device—the tase—and showed Steve a pinhead-sized opening at the end. Steve immediately took a retreating step, his gut instincts sending out warning alarms in his head and telling him to back up, to keep away.

“An Alpha tase is a military-grade protection device,” Bucky explained. Steve felt some of the fresh tension leave his own shoulders when Bucky flipped it back around so that the mysterious, dangerous end of it no longer faced him. “They come in different forms, made for different applications. This type was formulated for military Omegas who have been placed in high-risk operations in close quarters with unbonded Alphas. This one was Becca’s. She gave it to me after she was discharged and bonded to her now husband.”

Bucky put the tase in his left hand and used his right to position it. He was watching Bucky methodically secure and strap it around the precious, lovely skin of his vibranium-grafted wrist when Steve’s own memories suddenly materialized in full, and he could recall where and why he had seen one of these things before.

“Natasha has one for Bruce,” Steve found himself saying. “That… it must be their failsafe. For missions. For the other guy.” For when Bruce the Beta became Hulk the Alpha—but Bucky didn’t know any of that.

Steve was still absorbing his own words when Bucky’s meaning sank in. Steve understood now what Bucky had intended by bringing the tase to him in the first place. He found the bravery inside himself to look up at Bucky’s face, stopping at his mouth, not yet strong enough to meet his eyes. He found Bucky nodding.

This was Bucky showing Steve how he could protect himself— _from_ Steve.

“If you were to do something that hurt me— and you _won’t,_ Steve—all I’d have to do is press on this trigger and hold down for three seconds.” Bucky swiped his left thumb over the button at the center of his palm to mimic his words. “The cartridge inside would open, and the cloud of defensive pheromones that would be released would be so thick that it would choke you into submission.”

For the first time since he’d awoken with his bones on fire, Steve found himself considering that maybe… maybe this could actually _work_. He stared at the tase in Bucky’s hand while Bucky continued to describe what would happen if he set it off—“enormous discomfort, even pain, you’d practically forget what an Omega even is until after it wore off, and by then, I’d be long gone—” and slowly, slowly, Steve began to let himself imagine a reality instead of just a fantasy: letting go, giving Bucky what both of their bodies so voraciously demanded.

Steve could _hold_ his Omega, he could fill him up. He could take care of Bucky without doing something that would forever make Bucky hate him.

He took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his own chest, holding himself together as he let his gaze rise to meet Bucky’s.

“You—you’ll wear it, Buck?” Steve asked, still cautious. “You’ll protect yourself from me?”

And then Bucky’s hopeful eyes widened. There was no more beautiful sight in creation.

“I’ll keep the tase around my wrist the entire time,” Bucky promised. “Super soldier or not, you couldn’t stop me from using it even if you tried.”

This—this could happen; this was _real_. The possibility was so close now that Steve could taste it. He could have Bucky and he could serve Bucky, and Bucky could stay safe throughout all of it. Bucky could defend himself—even against Steve. And Steve even had a thought that maybe… maybe he wouldn’t even _need_ to bite. He’d held off this far, hadn’t he? Maybe the Alpha in Steve would be happy just to cover Bucky with his scent, or even just to know that Bucky had what _he_ needed, to know that his Omega was getting through his Heat without suffering in pain. Steve could have that— _they_ could have that—and Bucky would remain the one in control all the while.

Steve emerged from his visions and realized Bucky was patiently awaiting an answer.

“Okay.”

Just one word, and Bucky’s angelic face lit up in a smile. Steve wanted to see that kind of hope and happiness on him for the rest of his natural life. He wanted to be the reason for it.

“…Okay?” Bucky echoed, slowly, like he was afraid Steve would change his answer. “Okay. That’s… that’s good. But I, um… I’m going to ask you a question. And I want you to answer me honestly.”

Steve gave Bucky a questioning look as he played with a loose thread of the side of his own shirt, but he nodded. He could tell Bucky was fretting over something by the way he chewed on his bottom lip. Steve wanted to suck it out and chew on it himself.

“I know you haven’t done this with an Omega before,” Bucky began. Steve flinched at the reminder of his own inexperience and immediately felt inadequate. “And that’s okay! It really is. But… is this what you _want_ , Steve?”

 _Am_ I _what you want?_

The rip of tearing fabric was nothing more than a forgettable undertone beneath the sound of Steve’s own groan in his ears. Arms crossed, Steve absently noted his clenched fist pulling open a hole in the side of his white t-shirt where the loose thread had hung.

“ _Bucky…_ ” Steve rumbled. “You… you gotta believe me when I say that I have never, _ever_ wanted anything more in my life.”

Bucky visibly relaxed. The happy smile that followed was bright and beaming with relief.

“Good.”

He looked Steve up and down for a moment. Now that they had come to an agreement—now that this was really going to happen—Steve found himself facing a new challenge that may have been harder than the first. He no longer had to focus solely on keeping himself contained and away from Bucky. Instead, Steve had to find a way to transition from the relative safety of his locked-down stance to holding and kissing Bucky, to… to making _love_ to Bucky, and he had to do all of it without losing himself to the carnal urges that raged beneath his too-thin skin.

The predicament wasn’t helped by the sight of Bucky sinking into a prowl across the kitchen, careful but confident, his movements perfectly sultry as he closed the buffer of space between them. Steve worried the half-way bitten spot on his own bottom lip.

“Then I’ll just keep this here, attached to my wrist…”

Bucky gestured to the tase that was still secured in its place, and Steve felt himself release half of one very tense breath at the reminder. The relief was sweet but fleeting. Bucky stopped directly in front of Steve and looked up at him through his sinful, long eyelashes.

“… And you just keep _me_ attached to _you_.”

The first segment of Steve’s spine cracked, and he almost threw Bucky onto the countertop and fucked him raw in front of last night’s dirty dishes. He sucked in a wheezing breath instead, focusing all of his energy on slowly and carefully moving his own hands until they were settled—gently as he could manage—over each of Bucky’s shapely hips. Steve could feel the blazing heat of Bucky’s form through the thin fabric of his shirt, and he wanted to cup and grope and _grab_ , but he somehow kept his grip mild. His hands shook with bleeding restraint.

He didn’t miss the twinge of disappointment behind Bucky’s expression when he glanced down at Steve’s tempered hands. He wondered what Bucky was expecting instead—and if Steve could actually give it to him without his hard-won control irrevocably snapping completely.

Then, with a clear mission in his eyes, Bucky stepped around to Steve’s side and tilted his head until his chin rested on Steve’s shoulder. He grazed across Steve’s stomach with a purposeful caress of his metallic fingertips. The tiny action alone made the oxygen in Steve’s lungs combust into flame.

 _“I want you, Stevie,”_ Bucky breathed into his ear.

Steve—ever a fool of a man—braved a sideways look at Bucky’s face and immediately tasted blood. He groaned and forced his eyes shut, letting his head fall backward and forcing himself to release the abused lip from between his teeth. But Bucky was like a shark, zeroing in on Steve’s increasingly fruitless attempts to take their next steps slowly and carefully. He leaned in and took advantage of Steve’s exposed throat, moaning on an exhale.

“Smell so _good_ , baby.”

Steve wanted to cry; he really did. He needed to find out if Bucky would moan like that when he was split open on Steve’s knot. He needed to stick his hand down the back of Bucky’s sweats and find out exactly how wet he was inside.

“Yeah, Buck?” Steve swallowed. His voice sounded like tattered sandpaper in his own ears.

“Amazing… mmm… Love it so _much_.” Bucky was letting out these beautiful, quiet noises of pleasure as he filled his lungs with Steve’s scent again and again. “Want it all over my sheets. All over _me_.”

 _Fuck_ , but Steve could imagine it: every surface in Bucky’s apartment smelling like him—like _Bucky’s Alpha_ —every inch and hair on Bucky’s body, Steve’s scent digging into his soft, perfect skin with such a bone-deep grip that anyone who so much as passed Bucky on the street would know that he was Steve’s. That he was claimed.

“I want that too, baby. All… all the time.”

He opened his eyes and chanced another darting glance at Bucky and found him smiling now, purposeful and targeted and completely unfair.

“Oh, you do?” Bucky asked, feigning innocence with an expression that should have been a war crime. “Then make it happen, Stevie. Make me smell like _you_.”

And then Steve’s body was full-on sprinting ahead of his willpower, shoving himself forward and rounding on Bucky with a beastly swiftness, fully prepared to crowd him and crane his head downward and lick into Bucky’s mouth and throat and every pore on Bucky’s skin. He could taste his own heartbeat on his tongue as he forced himself to stop just short of caging Bucky in between his body and the kitchen cabinets.

“If you knew the things I was thinking of doing to you…” Steve groaned and licked his lips, watching Bucky do the same. “It’s—it’s scarin' me , Buck.”

And with that admission, Bucky’s heat-filled eyes softened. He began rubbing soft little circles across the straining muscles of Steve’s back.

“’S okay,” Bucky consoled, and wasn’t it supposed to be Alphas comforting their Omegas in these situations, and not the other way around? “All those things you want? Guarantee I want them too.”

And there were those images again, flashing like a sweet and terrible prophecy across the imaginary movie screen in Steve’s mind: the _want_ —Steve’s want—knotting and breeding and biting and owning but Bucky crying and struggling, hating Steve, shoving him away through the crushing force of ruin and bearing a brand on his neck that he did not want nor deserve.

“The first time I went into a Heat, even the regular heats, the ones I’ve almost always had—I was scared out of my mind. So many things your body just… _wants_.” Another tamped-down growl tickled Steve’s voice box. “It’s overwhelming. And I’ve been on suppressants for so long, I think this would be scary anyways… if I wasn’t going to spend it with someone I trust."

Bucky, _his_ Bucky—a mark on Steve’s soul, born and lived and deeper than skin—making sense when nothing else around Steve could.

 _Trust_.

Steve breathed out a weight he had carried for far, far too long.

“I trust you too, Buck. With everything, _god_ , I just—I haven’t done this before and I…” Steve blinked, and he said a silent prayer for moisture to return to his dry mouth. “I really, _really_ want to be good for you. Don’t wanna be selfish.”

Something novel and deep flitted across Bucky’s face in that moment. Steve watched it come and go swiftly. He understood with an innate sort of certainty that he would remember the expression until the day that he died.

His body trembled when Bucky’s fingers came up to toy with the short hairs on the back of Steve’s neck

“You know what the amazing thing about Compatible pairs is, baby? It’s not just about what I want, or what you want. It’s about what _we_ want. If it feels good for one of us, it’s gonna feel good for both of us. As long as we both want _this_ , together.” Steve nearly let out a whine when Bucky leaned over to breathe out against Steve’s shoulder, hot and wet through the cotton of the shirt. “Want you so _bad_ , Stevie, _god_.”

Steve was pulled in like a magnet, mouth searching for Bucky’s. “Want you too, Buck,” he rasped, heavy. “So _perfect_. Wanna take it.”

Bucky _moaned_.

“Then what are we waiting for? Need my Alpha inside me, Stevie. Gonna feel _so_ good, I promise.”

And then Bucky was tonguing at Steve’s skin, so close so his scent glands. Steve’s skeleton was a network of molten iron, and he needed to find a way to cool it down. Or the opposite. He needed Bucky’s mouth more.

“Can I… Can I kiss you?” Steve asked.

But then Bucky was pulling Steve down by the back of his neck and kissing _him_ , destroying Steve, drawing out sounds from deep inside him and stoking at carefully-tended embers that soon erupted into flame with the simple cupping of Steve’s jaw in his hands.

“Come on, Stevie,” Bucky breathed against his mouth. “Touch me, wanna _feel_ you.”

He was standing at a cliff’s edge. Below him were jagged rocks and a thrashing, wild ocean, and of course there was _Bucky_ : desperate, wanting, calling him home, pleading with Steve to step off the end and sink together beneath the surface of a fated rage.

Bucky’s fingertips were everywhere. His tongue, even. Steve soon found himself held captive by the vision of Bucky licking a scalding wet line over the inside of Steve’s wrist while that perfectly soft, compact little body slotted itself forward with purpose. Bucky’s muscle-power and strength might as well have been nonexistent anytime he was standing next to Steve, but none of that mattered when all it took for Steve to be helplessly pinned against the side of the countertop was the dark, needy look in Bucky’s eyes and the vision of his Omega drinking rut straight from its source.

And then Bucky started talking, and the hypnotic spell of that gaze turned out to be the least of Steve’s problems.

“Come on, _Alpha_ ,” Bucky whispered, curling his tongue through his teeth like he could taste the soft roll of consonants and electrocuting the most reptilian insides of Steve’s brain. “Please.”

And then—and _then_ , just in case there was even a shred left of the corpse that was once Steve’s resolve—Bucky leveled him flat with a tilt of his mouth and fewer syllables than could be counted on one hand.

“Knot me,” his Omega husked. “… _Breed_ me”.

Time slowed to a stop.

Steve Rogers saw _white_.

 _There was nothing in front of him nor behind him; beneath, above. He was swallowed by the burning bright of an entire world, until the heat of that light colored in with hazy pinks and oranges and_ reds _—dark, fluid reds, the air around him viscous and searing and held together by the forces inside a solar flare. He knew nothing and consisted of nothing except that thick body of flame: a dripping inferno, graceless, breathing and building and readying itself to consume that which he had so absolutely owned since birth. He would fill it with his warmth from the inside._

 _He could breed his Omega. He had been invited. His mate smelled like fertile earth and sweet rain and everything that was right in the world, and he was asking Steve to stretch him over his knot, to pump him full, and he was such a_ good _Omega; he would show his Alpha what he needed in exactly the way that he needed to have it. He would be pliant while Steve molded him and bent him, while he flooded him deep and used his tight body to milk out the fiery weight inside of his groin, over and over and again and again until he was so full of come that his soft belly would bulge outward, a perfect preview of what his mate would look like bred and swollen with Steve’s child, the delicate curve of his stomach drawn large with the letters_ ‘m – i – n – e’ _in visceral, sprawling script._

_‘Breed me’ rang clear in Steve’s soul while the sound of his growl rang savage in the room._

_‘Hunger’ could no longer explain what Steve felt. He was ravenous now, rapacious, bursting with a beastly kind of starvation that flowed from his gut to his lungs to the tips of his fingers. He clutched his mate, his Omega, his—his_ Bucky _—lifting him up onto the nearest surface and welcoming himself into the ‘v’ of his legs._

 _The scent of slick soaked the air. He heard,_ “Alpha,” _a whimpered plea, and,_ “need your knot,” _and Bucky clung to him with shaky arms around his shoulders. Steve rumbled out a dark sound and tore into Bucky’s mouth with his tongue. His hands had a mind of their own, roaming over Bucky’s clothed skin and coating him with scent before pressing beneath Bucky’s waistband. His fingers sought their prize of Bucky’s warm, wet hole and found it soaked. It wept for Steve to use it._

_He would._

_A gorgeous noise filled Steve’s ears when he used his grip on Bucky’s ass to lift him further and press their hips together. His fingertips slipped through slick until they were pressing against Bucky’s Heat-softened muscle, and he heard pleading,_ “please, Stevie, please,” _until Steve pushed past the scant resistance with two fingers. His chest swelled with pride when Bucky sang out with senseless pleasure at the sensation of being filled. He licked the sound off Bucky’s lips._

 _But fingers could not quench a Heat. His Omega writhed in Steve’s hold, trying to get him deeper, unsettled, unsated. The restlessness stoked a nearly-tempered flame and let the devil further in. He needed Bucky to be_ obedient _—needed him to be soft, to wait for his Alpha to give him what he required. Bucky whined and squirmed instead. Steve made a merciful warning sound and felt his lip curl, halfway to baring teeth._

 _He adjusted his arms and let Bucky’s weight fall fully onto the length of one finger. Bucky cried out. Something as old as the Earth itself told Steve to take the back of Bucky’s neck, to hold his nape—to grab to squeeze to_ grip _, so he did._

_His mate fell lax._

_Steve rode that primordial wave and followed it further. He felt himself pulsing out something new in his own Alpha scent. He watched as Bucky’s nostrils fluttered, inhaling the novel smell from the swelling glands of Steve’s wrist before turning further into liquid under his grip, melting into a body of flesh that would now lie in placid wait for Steve to tend to its every need._

_“Omega,” he heard himself growl, staking his claim with the only words that mattered. “Mate.”_

_Bucky responded with a whine and weak, perfect,_ “Alpha,” _and then,_ “bed… nest?”

 _Yes. It would be right for his Omega to have a nest, something built from soft things that smelled thickly of them both, and there his mate—and there_ Bucky _would stay. Bucky would not want to go outside or anywhere else that was not where Steve put him. Bucky’s scent would be masked by his Alpha’s, ensconced in_ Steve _, and no outside threat would be able to smell him or know that his Omega was fertile and ready. Bucky would be safe in a nest._

 _And yet, there had not been time to build one. Steve methodically reviewed the available alternatives. One—the couch, the place he and Bucky had just slept just the night before and where Steve’s scent still lingered. Two: Bucky’s bed. The bed no longer smelled of Steve after his week-long absence, but it was larger, with more room for Steve to work. And it_ did _smell of Bucky. His mate would be most comfortable there, Steve decided, and it would smell of them both soon enough once he had taken care of Bucky and the sheets were covered in Steve’s sweat and scent and saliva—but not his seed. Bucky would keep that safe inside him._

_Steve released his hold on Bucky’s neck, securing him tighter against his body with an arm around his waist as he moved them to the bedroom. Even sweet and sedated, purring quietly, Bucky knew to cling to Steve with soft thighs around his Alpha’s middle. Steve’s mate was clever._

_He did not remove his finger from the tight, wet clutch of Bucky’s body until he was setting him down on the sheets. Bucky whimpered to be so empty when Steve’s hand left his pants, but Steve soothed him, running that same hand under his shirt and smoothing a palm over Bucky’s shapely curves._

_Steve stood and looked down at his charge. For reasons unsearched and unknown, seeing Bucky laid out on the bed lifted the fog of baser instinct ever so slightly from Steve’s mind, and the red dissipated, cleared—_ if only for a little while.

“Clothes,” he grunted, before stripping Bucky down without waiting for Bucky to follow his order. He tossed the inconvenient pieces of fabric to the other end of the bed so they would have them later to add to a nest.

Steve felt rather than heard the rumbling noise that left his chest once Bucky was bare, flushing skin and glowing sweat, dick hard and pinked-up with the gleam of slick visible between his thighs. Bucky regarded Steve with a dark, hot look of his own, and then he was leaning up on his elbows, tugging at Steve’s shirt with pleading eyes and asking—“off?”—and Steve could do nothing but comply. It filled him with deep pride to watch the way Bucky’s eyes devoured the expanse of his newly exposed chest. It was affirming for his self-confidence, sure—even super soldiers could get body conscious sometimes—but even more than that, it pleased Steve immensely that Bucky could see his Alpha’s bulk and brawn and strength and know that he had a capable protector.

He nearly lost himself again when Bucky sank to his knees before him with a barely-heard, _“yes,”_ burying his face in the crease of Steve’s groin and inhaling his scent. He looked up at Steve through dark eyelashes. Soon Steve’s pants had been worked open, and then his cock was freed with an obscene slapping noise as it sprung forward and wet up Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky gasped, and Steve swore.

“Oh, _Christ_.”

For a while, Bucky just stared. Steve was halfway to becoming self-conscious—he knew he was big, and he knew Bucky had already seen as much, but perhaps he was _too_ big for the task in front of them—before a dozen of Steve’s different fantasies suddenly materialized before him. Bucky moaned and began rubbing his mouth and face against Steve’s painfully stiff length, eyes fluttering open and shut, breath heavy and humid.

“You like that…” Steve croaked out in wonder.

“Mmm… _fuck_ yeah.”

Steve barely clung to consciousness when Bucky took the head of his cock into his mouth. He could feel the drool escaping his own lips—but it had nothing on the sheer volume of spit and slobber that Bucky began to spill over Steve’s erection, sucking and slurping on whatever parts of it he could fit inside. Steve’s balls throbbed at the feeling of sweet-wet sensation. A part of him wanted to grab Bucky’s hair and fuck into his mouth, to own his throat, while another part wanted to pull out and put Bucky on all fours, while still other parts wanted to get sucked to completion so he could spill white over Bucky’s pretty face.

In the end, all it took was Bucky swiping his tongue just right against the underside of Steve’s cock, and then Bucky was on the bed before Steve could recall putting him there. It all happened in such a flash that Steve found himself struck dumb by indecision once he actually had Bucky where he wanted him, sprawled out on his back across the sheets like the most decadent dessert waiting to be eaten alive. Ready for him.

Bucky’s eyes were darker than Steve had ever seen them.

“What do you want, Alpha?” Bucky husked. “You wanna get inside me? I bet that’s _all_ you can think about right now—” and then he couldn’t speak anymore, because Steve was hovering over him on the bed and caging Bucky in with his massive bulk.

“ _Yes_ …” Steve groaned. “Need you.”

The air in Steve’s lungs was no longer air but molten silver. Bucky touched him wherever he could reach with his fingertips and rubbed his nose against Steve’s chest.

“Okay, Stevie,” he whispered. “How do you want me?”

Steve bent and smothered Bucky with a kiss filled with so much covetousness and possession that it frightened even himself.

“Need to get you ready for me,” he gasped, pulling back to let Bucky take in a breath.

Steve manhandled Bucky to the center of the mattress and buried his face in Bucky’s neck, distracted momentarily by the needy scent pouring from the skin there. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his hands frantically worked their way between Bucky’s legs, sliding across slick-covered thighs, moving down and under until Steve was pushing two fingers into Bucky’s body. His own deep groan rattled his eardrums.

“ _Fuck_ , baby—so fucking wet for me.”

Steve lost himself again. Bucky’s hole was hot and wet and it was sucking in his fingers like it had spent an eon waiting for them. He slithered down Bucky’s abdomen to give himself more room to move, more space to bend his elbow, more leverage to fuck Bucky with his fingers.

And then that predatory presence was sneaking back in, white noise painted red, tasting the skin of Bucky’s belly—of _his_ _Omega’s perfect stomach, soft and warm with a subtle swell of healthy fat, no better place for Steve’s pup to grow safe and strong. His own dripping cock rutted and pressed into the smooth flesh of his those thighs, and Steve sunk lower, darting his tongue out to lick a hot line along that sweet, little dick and to savor it with laving licks and—_

“Oh _—Steve!”_

Discomfort laced Bucky’s cry, jerking Steve out of his head. His chest filled with panic, and he yanked his intruding fingers from Bucky’s body—and when had he slipped in that third finger?

“What is it, Buck? Did I hurt you?” But Bucky only whimpered instead of responding, writhing, and oh god, oh _god_ —“shit, ‘m so sorry, do we need to stop—?” Steve’s heart was in his throat. “We can stop, _I_ can still stop—”

Steve’s eyes darted to the tase strapped to Bucky’s wrist. He reached for it—not really sure why, not when they didn’t actually need it to call Steve off at this point, but just wanting Bucky to know that he was still the one in control—and that’s when Bucky made a deep, frustrated noise that sounded nothing of pain or fear.

“I don’t need you to _stop_ , Steve,” Bucky groaned. He squirmed, moving his purpling dick away from its press against Steve’s abs like he was trying to escape overstimulation. “Need you to flip me over and fucking _fuck me_!”

The anxiety dissolved from Steve’s shoulders and was replaced with the heart-pounding force of renewed arousal in the blink of an eye. He groaned and bent down to wet Bucky’s lips and chin with a carnal kiss, before abruptly pulling back, flipping him over onto his hands and knees. Bucky’s answering moan spoke of pleasure and shock and filth.

Steve found that he couldn’t keep his hands still. He heard himself growling low in his throat, running his mouth, _“yeah, baby, gonna fill you up,”_ but he had no real point of focus save for the sweat-slick skin under his roaming, greedy hands.

“Need it now,” Bucky whined. “ _Please_ , all of it."

Steve’s cock pulsed with what was surely half of the blood inside his body. He wanted nothing more than to sit up on his knees and push Bucky’s shoulders down to the bed while he jammed himself down into the suctioning hothot _hot_ of his body, but he stayed himself again, thumbing and at Bucky’s hole to test the stretch this way and that.

“Still too tight, Buck,” Steve said, attempting to keep his tone flat in lieu of revealing the torturous, blistering impatience throbbing inside his balls. “Need to… to give you more.”

Steve slipped his slick-soaked fingers back into that tight space inside Bucky and was met with whimpering, pleading welcome. He worked in a fourth alongside, knowing he would need every extra bit of space if he was going to fit his cock and knot without hurting Bucky. Steve would sooner walk barefoot across the surface of a star.

Bucky cried out in delight and widened his knees, lowering his hips to the bed and pressing back into Steve’s hand, and then he lowered his forehead to rest against his sweaty arms, and that was—that was—

—that was hazy, and that was _red_ , and that was Steve’s Omega _presenting._

_He needed to make his mate scream. Until he bore Steve’s mark and Steve’s child, the only way the world would know that there was one single Alpha to whom Bucky would give this was if Steve could make him howl out from his core, loud enough to knock down walls. He removed his fingers and replaced it with a thumb, pressing down relentlessly on Bucky’s sweet spot and pulsing against it in time with Steve’s heartbeat, zeroed in on ecstasy._

_Steve’s Omega_ did _howl._

 _He had never known a hunger that was more insatiable. His hands and fingers snapped free of chains that were made to be broken, cupping Bucky’s balls as he brought him pleasure from inside. He could hear Bucky begging for Steve’s knot again—_ “fuck me, _please_ ,”— _and Steve’s teeth felt sharp in his mouth, and then he caught Bucky sneaking a hand down beneath his own body out of the corner of his eyes. Something maniacal at the surface, something possessive, something surely wrong and cruel, growled out and dived a free hand down to block Bucky from touching himself. He wrapped his own fingers around that perfect, drooling dick instead, reveling in the way he could engulf it entirely with just one fist._

_He could hear himself talking, an ancient beast with Steve’s language and Steve’s tongue._

_“You’re leaking for me here, too, aren’t you?”_

_Steve tugged on the wet prick in his hand, and Bucky made that_ sound _again, and then whatever was left of Steve had no defense against what his own mouth demanded._

 _At the first taste of his mate’s slicked-up hole on his tongue, Steve might have blacked out. The new void in his consciousness was filled to the brim with that same red cloud of carnal desperation that had already begun to rule him completely, telling him to_ lick-taste-drink _and to get his Omega ready for his cock, get him soft, get him open. It was a necessity. Everything else would have to come second._

 _Somewhere far beyond the booming cacophony of craving and blind instinct, Steve registered the feeling of Bucky’s hole clenching and shaking against his mouth, around his thumb. The dick in his hold spurted into Steve’s fist at the same time that his throat was flooded with honeyed slick, the nectar of angels and gods, and Steve knew immediately that he needed moremore_ more _of this and would rip apart the sky to get it._

 _He swallowed and drowned himself in Bucky’s taste. It was thick with the promise of being sated, even temporarily, full of_ Omega _and_ mine _. Steve had each of the fleshy globes of Bucky’s ass in his hands, holding them apart for his mouth, and every thought that entered or left his head was reduced to nothing but a demand that he please his mate. Bucky’s body had long ago gone boneless against the bed, joints and sinew alike having given out under the blow of his orgasm._

_Bucky could have been unconscious; Steve didn’t know. But his mate was crying out to him just the same, evolved below and beyond the needless use of words or breath._

_(‘I need your blood in my mouth,’ Steve called to him.)_

_(‘Take it, Alpha,’ his Omega pleaded, a silent sound meant not for ears but for running through hearts and veins. ‘I can’t rest until you have it.’)_

_He lost time without concern for where it all went. All that was real was Bucky’s body—still thrumming with the aftershocks of release—becoming softer and more supple beneath Steve’s tongue. Every little new bit of give in that pink ring of muscle was that much closer to Bucky being ready to take his girth. The thought alone had the deepest parts of Steve rumbling._

_(‘You’ll be mine, after this.’)_

_(‘That’s all I’ve ever been.’)_

_Untold time passed. Steve felt the moment that Bucky’s conscious mind returned to him, because the soundless voice went quiet under the clamor of waking thought. Bucky made a confused sound, followed by a shocked moan, and then he was trying to sit up or to crawl away or to beg for more before he was ready. Steve efficiently ended that reckless line of thought with a warning snarl and pressed Bucky back into the mattress by the nape of his neck. He heard Bucky say something that Steve could not process, but he surrendered without a fight. Steve returned to work._

_Once he could slip in four fingertips comfortably alongside his tongue, Steve finally pulled back. His beard was dripping with decadent slick. He took his own cock in one hand and held Bucky open with the other, peering back and forth between the two, calculating and judging the fit._

_His mate’s body was ready for him._

_“Please, Stevie,” Bucky whined, just in time, and the sonic waves of his mate’s voice crackled in the loud static of Steve’s mind and he—_ and the red film over his eyes was peeling back once again, and there was the love of Steve’s life, face down, ass up—

“I’m ready, we’re ready. Will you please just fuck me?”

 _—begging_ Steve to fill him up.

“Okay,” Steve rasped through grit and gravel. His voice sounded wrecked, as though swallowing Bucky’s slick had been no different than drinking down flower-sweet acid. “You’re in control, alright Buck? Promise— _promise_ me you’ll use it if you feel like you need to.”

Bucky sighed.

“I promise. Okay?”

And then Bucky was reaching a hand back between his own legs and grabbing Steve’s cock—grabbing the _base_ of Steve’s cock, where his knot would soon stretch and fill and pulse to lock Bucky to him. Steve groaned and looked down at the sight. He spotted a glimpse of the little black device still strapped to Bucky’s wrist.

“I promise,” Bucky repeated, the sincerity evident in his tone. “If I feel like I need it, I’ll stop you.”

Steve might have prayed to God that Bucky would not need it, if only he’d thought God was strong enough to stop what might come. He prayed to Bucky Barnes instead.

“Thank you.”

Steve was drained of all power and bursting with frantic energy at the exact same time. As he replaced Bucky’s hand with his own on his cock, Steve understood with a sudden, deadly certainty that this one calm moment—this blip of clarity inside his head—was the eye of the storm passing over. These were the last coherent thoughts he would know until Bucky’s Heat had been sated and his own rut was through.

This was the last of sobriety. This was the end of control.

The inhale trembled as it passed through Steve’s throat. He pressed the fat head of his cock to Bucky’s wet, swollen entrance, but when he looked down he saw more than just a body. He saw the most important thing in the world: his love, his purpose. The man he was born to protect with his life.

_‘God help me if I ruin you,’_ Steve said to himself, just before walking into the sun. _‘Devil take me if I try.’_

Bucky’s heat tried to swallow Steve down before he could even push inside. The pink flesh clung to him, begged for him, and there it was again—the beast, the _Alpha_ , right on time _—and then it was that bloodred light of static and flame tearing through his body with a lightning bolt of fate, ripping mind from flesh and—_

_“I’m going to fill you up—”_

_—and speaking the promises of a monster in the voice of a man—_

_“—_ so _damn good.”_

_He gripped his mate’s hip and found skin hot enough to singe away fingerprints. It didn’t matter; soon they would be bonded, just like his Omega had asked. An Alpha did not need traces of an old identity when they were standing on the edge of being born into something new._

_The beast growled._

_He pressed forward._

**Author's Note:**

> I stopped there because Steve wouldn't technically remember much at all of what comes next. If you'd like a refresher (Bucky POV), see [Act III of _Compatible_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597390/chapters/48908786).
> 
> CONTENT WARNING DETAILS (Spoilers):
> 
> Dub-Con - Established sexual relationship, but Steve's consent in this episode could be considered coerced. Everyone consents verbally but no one is clear-headed. Bucky and Steve are unprepared and under-educated about their urges due to circumstances out of their control. Fear is involved.
> 
> Potential Non-Con Elements: Steve has the ability to grip the back of Bucky's neck to force him to relax. It is clear to the reader that Bucky enjoys the sex overall. At one point Bucky whites-out/briefly blacks out from an orgasm and Steve continues to do sexual things to him while he is unconscious.


End file.
